


Red Tears

by StormBlue



Category: Warhammer - All Media Types, Warhammer 40.000, Warhammer 40k (Novels) - Various Authors
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:26:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23586835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormBlue/pseuds/StormBlue
Summary: Artemesia and Dagmar have a long, overdo talk about the lives they were forced into.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 3





	Red Tears

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lucreace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucreace/gifts).



> AT LAST IT IS COMPLETED for context, please do ready Taming the Night by my good friend as this is a personalized spinoff one shot. In particular this takes place just after chapter 23 of that fic. ;)
> 
> Oops, this might also be a pretty blatant critique of gender roles and sexism in general.

For a long time Artemesia questioned her worth as a woman. If she was to be honest, it had all…started a ways before Synthalia even. It would be a fact the Lady could never fully accept, but it was there. Mephiston was never happy with her and she, being told otherwise by nearly everyone else, ignored the obvious signs. Too, she noticed that Dante stepped up to a supposedly new rank and showed up at the castle far, far less. New missions, father told her, but she’d been blind to the real reason for that as well. Maybe if she bothered to lift the false wedding veil from her face sooner she might have seen. But it was too late now.

Raldoron had promised her nothing less than pure lies. That her own father decided to sweep such issues under the rug while buying into her pride as his daughter and second heir to the throne was…

All Blood Angels had within them a hidden fury. It was a black poison and a red hunger that bit deep down, a holdover from their most glorious founder and grandfather. Baring only half of that lineage her angel’s teeth were small in comparison to most, but the rage was there. It boiled in her now until it felt like she could have taken up arms. But she never did. Forever trapped within her role. A weak, female body ill trained for any task other than being a mother and a wife. An example of the etiquette Sanguinius’s ancient heritage had on display. Nothing more.

It meant so very fucking little now. Her ancestral home was in ruins so many tens of miles back and the forests she traveled in now felt cold and dark. Much like the Night Lord woman, she supposed. Synthalia…oh, her anger burned for her. A woman born to savagery and freedom the Blood Angel was never allowed to touch. Jealousy was such a sin, but Artemesia felt it now. The Night Lord’s dark charms were undeniable and matched too well with Mephiston’s own forbidden shadows. It was inevitable they would be together, even Artemesia was able to see that now.

“Ah, how much of a fool am I?” Artemesia hissed into the night sky. The coals of the old fire still crackled, bleeding warmth, but the Lady did not want to leave. Everyone else had since gone to bed, even Mephiston and Synthalia. Together, she noted bitterly. 

No. Indeed they were better off that way. She’d seen expressions on Mephiston that he’s never showed her no matter how hard she tried. How a foreign woman could tease so much out of him spoke of her own inadequacies she supposed. So was it truly Synthalia’s fault then, that Artemesia had failed to live up to his expectations? 

Great Angel, so many if, ands, or buts. It was all that really remained now wasn’t it? Her delicate hands curled so hard the sharp, painted nails cut into her palms. The rage was nearly soothing in its ability to burn away the rest of the ice in her gut but did very little to stop the tears. It was so much more grime caked to her face that she barely noticed. 

“But I deserve it don’t I?” She whispered to the blood creeping from her hands, forced open with a shaky gasp. “Who knows, maybe the sickness stole my ability to give child like it did with Dagmar?”

A hidden fear she decided to keep from everyone else. Whatever the Deathguard implanted in that necklace stole so much more from her than time and strength. Her dignity and pride went with it too. Never before had she ever been that ill, all counting the days of her childhood. It was pretty obvious from birth which twin was weaker, after all…

Oh, she had so missed her sweet brother Dante but she could hardly stand to look at him. Too much shame. She and father had essentially set the clan up for failure. All her fault. Maybe the sickness should have killed her. 

A soft rustle behind her had Artemesia reaching for a branch, fully prepared to vent her frustrations on the intruder rather it be man or raccoon, but stopped when she saw it was neither. Dagmar was a pale shadow in the waning glow of the fire, terrible to look at, but she preferred her to literally anything else. 

“Relax, it’s just me.” The Krieg woman announced unnecessarily. 

Artemesia wanted to spit at her, but the urge immediately died down, saddling closer to the other. 

“I think we need to talk. Away from the men.”

The Lady really did not want to, but Dagmar had a voice that often brokered no argument. “Yes. Away from men.”

“They’re not going to understand. Not Dante, not Mephiston. Not Synthalia either, probably. But I think I might. Being raised to think your worth as a woman is only as good as your worth to your husband. It comes with so little freedom and so little room to think. Sure, they might pile the books and learning into your head but in the end, well...”

Artemesia curled further into herself, pained. “In the end if I don’t impress a man and have a family what good am I to the family?”

“Exactly.” Dagmar did something neither Mephiston nor Dante had done. Nuzzled up to her. Hugged her properly. It made Artemesia’s rage pour forth in a sob. 

“Father did this to me on purpose didn’t he?” She whispered in between tears. 

“I…I can’t say. But from having been here for nearly a decade already I can say that a lot of people were left in the dark, Artemesia. Me included, I think.”

A sigh. “You never really fit in. But I get why.”

“Yeah.” Dagmar agreed. “I was forced out of my dresses into the life of a soldier. I can never go back to being a lover. Barney is…Barney is gone too.”

Artemesia gripped her tighter. “I am so sorry.”

“It’s alright. I’ll…I’ll get over it. It’s expected me of me at this point. It’s not your fault.”

“Yes it is! Maybe if me and father weren't so fucking stupid we might have been able to do something sooner!”

Dagmar cringed, the sound echoing into the forest. Things stirred in its wake but no night creature would dare peer around the camp. Too many people and most if not all were armed. Still, the soldier gently shushed Artemesia with a hand to her mouth. 

“No, my Lady, it was your father’s fault, and maybe mine too for not threatening the lot of them when I should have.”

“Maybe.” Artemesia was limp now, settled on the other’s lap. “Everything still hurts.”

“It will never stop hurting I don’t think. Not for a while.” She paused. “I think you, Mephiston, your brother and Synthalia need to talk eventually.”

“I don’t really want anything to do with them.”

“I know. But imagine if this had all been revealed before the Deathguard? The lot of you all had problems from the beginning, the sickness and the collapse was just the catalyst. If Raldoron were still alive and he found out about Mephiston and Synthalia, he would have had Mephiston executed and Synthlia banished. You, more than likely, would have either killed yourself or the other woman.”

“How dare you say that so casually!” The Lady weakly banged her fist against the shoulder of the other.

“But you know I’m right. Every single one of you set yourself up for it. Was it anyone in particular who should be at fault here? No, of course not. The puzzle pieces just all fell into place. Too slow to really see it coming. It happens. Life is terrible, especially for young women like you who are trained to not notice or care. I likely would have been that way too if Krieg hadn’t died. And you know what? I think I would have liked it. Life would have been simpler, but that’s not something the others will really understand. They’ve never been treated like that.”

“I hate them.” Artemesia silently seethed, snuggling into Dagmar’s lap while the other stroked her viciously knotted hair. “I hate men.”

“It’s more complicated than hate and you know that.” The soldier woman sighed. “Which is why a talk will be needed eventually. Just…not for a while. But keep in mind that its not your fault. It doesn’t excuse your actions, but it doesn’t excuse theirs either.”

That soothed her, if only slightly. “I guess...”

From the very edge of the clearing, Mephiston withdrew, half shadow half flesh. He had to be at least somewhat incorporeal or he was sure Dagmar would have spotted him. Having listened to it all, perhaps he should let it happen. No doubt Dagmar would fling any of the five to ten knives she had with her at all times towards him. The man had silently accused Artemsia of being blind, but apparently he’d been worse. No amount of blood could have accurately describe the shade of red his former betrothed flooded now. Dagmar's was a cold, disgusted grey. Sick of the actions of others. He couldn’t blame her. His own aura began to bleed the sharp ice blue of shame and then he slipped back into pure shadow, melting into the night.


End file.
